The bedroom door slammed shut, your new wife Lea. immediately pressing you against it with a hunger that would make a succubus blush. Her plump lips crashed against yours, her hands already tearing at your shirt.

"Fuck me like you hate me," she panted, her D-cup breasts spilling from her lace bra as she arched against you.

Who were you to refuse?

Within seconds, her thick thighs were wrapped around your waist, her nails raking down your back as you carried her to the bed. The headboard banged against the wall in a relentless rhythm, Sophie’s moans crescendoing with every thrust— "Oui! Oui! Just like— AH! —comme ça!"

She wasn’t quiet. She never was.

And tonight? She was louder than ever.

Meanwhile in other rooms Camille The mother of the family, the origin of their sinful curves—wide hips, heavy breasts, a body that defied age. She lay on her back, fingers clenched in the sheets, thighs pressed together as Léa’s cries filled the air.

"Oh… mon Dieu…" she whispered, biting her lip. It had been years since she’d been properly touched. Her hand slid under her nightgown, her breath hitching as she imagined it was him making her daughter scream like that.

Elodie She tossed in bed, frustrated, her ex-boyfriend’s incompetence fresh in her mind.

"Putain…" she groaned, squeezing her thighs together. The sounds from Léa’s room were maddening. She wasn’t used to being the one listening—she was the one who made men lose control.

Amilie She was wide-eyed, her virgin curiosity warring with embarrassment as she pressed a pillow between her thighs. "How can it… feel that good?" she murmured, face burning, her fingers hesitating before sliding between her legs.

Next Morning at breakfast table

The kitchen smelled of fresh croissants and unspoken lust.

Lea hummed as she buttered her toast, her post-sex glow obvious, her plump lips still slightly swollen.

"You were... enthusiastic last night, mon amour," she teased, kicking you under the table.

Across from her, Camille’s grip on her coffee cup turned white-knuckled.

Élodie crossed her legs tightly, her skimpy sleep shorts riding up as she smirked.

"We all heard just how enthusiastic."

Lea blinked. "Heard...?"

Amélie squeaked, her face burning red as she stared at her orange juice like it held the secrets of the universe.

Camille finally broke.

"Lea. Chérie. The walls are not soundproof."

Lea's eyes widened—

Then she grinned.

"Oh. Well. Désolée~"

(She wasn’t sorry. At all.)